


what i wouldn't give

by princessoftheworlds



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Canon Relationships, Denial of Feelings, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Season/Series 06, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29228079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds/pseuds/princessoftheworlds
Summary: Sighing, he tells Hasan, “You’re going to like it here. You’ll see phenomena beyond your wildest dreams and meet aliens you could never have imagined, but it’ll be worth it, I promise.”“Thank you,” Hasan says, his smile genuine. And Tyler’s heart flutters slightly, but he tightens his grasp on it. Last night, those weeks he’d spent trailing Hasan over the city and then in the warehouse, he’d been attracted to Hasan, had lusted after him, but there’d been a point where some of that desire had softened, had turned to hazier, warmer feelings he’d been too afraid to name.Tyler can’t afford that again, because for all he swore only moments previous that Torchwood had turned him into a believer, that cynicism is still there, that cynicism and the fear that Tyler could take something, take someone, wonderful like Hasan and raze it to the ground.And Hasan doesn’t deserve that. Nor does Tyler deserve Hasan.When Hasan suddenly resurrects from the grave, Tyler finds himself facing an unexpected emotional quandary - falling in love.
Relationships: Tyler Steele/Hasan (Torchwood)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 6





	what i wouldn't give

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boyslightup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boyslightup/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Grace! First of all, sorry this is so late, but hopefully, the length of it more than makes up for that! Secondly, first actual attempt at writing most of the S5/S6 characters, so I hope you like it. 
> 
> Very, very, very much grateful for Jacklynn for helping me brainstorm scenes and for editing and for hyping me up and for a title! So basically just for everything!
> 
> Finally, Hasan deserved better. Tyler deserves better. Give us S7, Big Finish.
> 
> (Also, trigger warning for a brief description of a panic attack and emetophobia in the first scene.)

It takes almost a year and a half for things to return back to normal, for Andy and Yvonne to be able to clear Torchwood’s repute so that the rest of the team, for Cardiff to rebuild after the flood, for Tyler’s life to maintain some kind of balance - not that there’s been balance or even normality _ever._ But the point is, he’s got a flat again, now that Torchwood has a budget and can pay him for, and the team is mostly united and semi-functional in the peace that Cardiff is currently experiencing. The worst they’ve had to deal with this month alone was a Weevil epidemic.

Fucking figures, that just as Tyler is settling into the peace, they get a call about a man suddenly materializing out of thin air outside a warehouse across the city, and since “people appearing from thin air” is not necessarily normal, Torchwood gets called in. The man’s description is average-heighted of South Asian descent, which is vague enough in such a city like Cardiff.

Only when Ng, Colchester, and Tyler pull up onto the empty street behind the warehouse lies does Tyler begin to have an inkling of a sense about where they are headed. In all the chaos with Ro Jedda and the Sorvix and God and the flood, he’d almost forgotten, except he hadn’t really; he’d tried to, because sometimes, the memory and pain was too _much._

There’s a panicked fluttering in his chest, and he’s hyperventilating before he realizes it, a faint staticky roaring in his ears. Ng glances over from the front, brown eyes widening in concern when she catches a glimpse of all six feet of Tyler hunched over tightly, as small as he can go.

“Are you alright, Tyler?” she asks, and he only shakes his head, the question barely registering. Nor does he realize that Colchester has parked the car and is murmuring to Ng, his brow furrowed together.

“This is the street,” Tyler manages to gasp out, every breath he forces into his tightening lungs rattly. “... _Deliverables._ ”

“Oh.” Ng’s expression changes immediately in realization, and she exchanges a sober glance with Colchester that is once again missed by Tyler. “ _Oh._ ” A beat. “Do you want to stay in the car? Colchester and I can check it out.”

Slowly, Tyler calms himself down, managing to straighten up against the seat, his hand pressed tightly over his heart to check for his pulse. He shakes his head at Ng’s question.

“No, no,” he replies hoarsely. “I can… I can do it. I can’t get a panic attack every time I come near this fucking street.”

He winces as he clambers out of the car, checking that his gun is still holstered beneath his suit jacket. (He knows it’s a bit ridiculous to be wearing suits in a job like _Torchwood,_ but he needs it, needs the appreciative gazes it draws as he saunters across the Plass; he needs to remember that he’s no longer invisible, no longer small. Plus, Jack seemingly has a suit kink, and although they’re no longer shagging, he still likes the older man’s attention.)

Ng gives him a final glance of concern as he passes her, and he smiles politely. Colchester says nothing, which Tyler is glad for. It really would be something if Colchester’s general grumpy demeanor towards Tyler changed; not even months of being on the run together, packed tightly into a smart car, could change that, even if they now share a common level of understanding and tolerance. 

They round the corner of the warehouse together, and Tyler tries his fucking hardest to ignore the terrible memories that attempt to come flooding back. He takes a shaky breath and shoves away the urge to spew.

_I’ll come and find you after I’ve been to HR._

Except, Hasan never came back. And Tyler shudders, remembering the way the app had continued to delegate responsibilities out to him.

_Okay. See you later, Tyler._

“C’mon, Tyler,” Ng says, nudging him gently as they step forward. 

Even Colchester says, hesitantly, “We could go back. Make Harkness come here instead. Warehouses seem more his style.” He huffs when Tyler glares at him, striding forward more quickly.

“I’m fine,” Tyler insists. “I’ll be okay-” His voice dies as a figure steps out from behind the warehouse, a man of average height and obviously South Asian. Tyler grinds to a sudden halt, as do Colchester and Ng.

The man is wearing a t-shirt and jeans, but he’s hot and - more importantly - _familiar._ He has a rather impressive, scruffy jawline and sharp cheekbones and dark messy hair and brown eyes that are widened in bewilderment.

“ _Tyler?_ ” he asks in a richly-tinged accent that Tyler remembers well from his memories.

“Hasan?” Tyler asks in a small voice, feeling the ground drop away from his feet. He thinks he sways slightly, his knees buckling, but he’s a bit more distracted by the man walking before him. The man he knows was burnt to dust over two years ago.

Shocked and shaking, Tyler doubles over and vomits out his morning’s breakfast on the dark asphalt.

* * *

“As far as I can tell,” Colchester says, squinting at the results from the scans Orr ran on Hasan, “Mr. Khondakar is one-hundred percent alive and entirely human.” He glances up from the screen of his tablet. “And excluding Harkness and myself, the only other case of someone coming back to life was Dr. Owen Harper.”

“Owen was an isolated incident,” Jack replies from where he lounges in Orr’s desk chair, his legs crossed up onto the desk, exposing his dirty boots. “I made sure of that. And I’m a fixed point in time and space.” He narrows his eyes at Hasan, sitting docile in a nearby desk chair, Jack’s expression more assessing than leering: “You look familiar. Did you perhaps work in government? Maybe a decade ago?”

Hasan shakes his head. “No, Mr. Harkness. I would have still been an engineering student in Bangladesh then.” 

Jack hums as he, seemingly, retreats into his own thoughts.

“What if Hasan coming back was like Colchester?” Tyler muses, not meeting Hasan’s bewildered eyes. “What if someone wished for him hard enough? And God brought him back.” When Jack and Colchester’s gazes snap to him in alarm, he swiftly shakes his head. “I didn’t. Not me this time.”

He hadn’t even bothered trying.

“It could be possible,” Orr says, speaking for the first time. They’ve been sitting at Ng’s desk, Ng, Yvonne, and Andy away on another Rift spike. “When I had God’s powers, I could feel everything everyone wanted. It could have been possible to have granted someone’s wish or prayer without even being aware of it.”

“Still, it would not have taken almost two years,” Colchester replies.

Jack nods. “For once, I have to agree with Colchester.” And Colchester barely manages to suppress the face, the one that Tyler knows is his equivalent of rolling his eyes. “But the only one who would really know is God. And she’s been AWOL for a while. It might take some time to track where she’s been vacationing.”

“What shall I do in the meantime?” Hasan asks; he looks like he’d been barely following along in the conversation. “Where will I stay?”

“My flat has a spare room,” Tyler says before even realizing that he does, and Hasan’s eyes widen. “You can stay there.” 

“An engineering student you said you were,” Colchester repeats to himself, rubbing his chin. “We could certainly use an engineer around here, help keep the Rift manipulator from falling apart again.”

Which is how Hasan Khondakar becomes the newest member of Torchwood and how Tyler finds himself a flatmate.

* * *

The first night, after Tyler’s shown Hasan the other bedroom - furnished simply with a bed because he wants a place where others can stay if he can keep them off the streets - and how to run the shower, they don’t talk. Not really. Not about _what happened._

Before Tyler leaves Hasan’s room, he awkwardly asks, “You don’t have any allergies or food restrictions, right?” A beat. “For breakfast tomorrow?” He doesn’t have a lot of choices in his refrigerator or pantry, but he does keep the basics - milk, eggs, cheese, bread, some vegetables, bacon.

“I keep halal,” Hasan tells him. The sweatpants he’s wearing are Tyler’s, and Hasan’s had to roll them up slightly. He pulls at the sleeves of his borrowed jumper. “Toast should be fine.”

“Hala,” Tyler says awkwardly. “Right, because you’re Muslim.” He blinks, just now realizing how little he knows about Hasan, this man who came back from the dead, this man Tyler’s known for nothing more than a few weeks. This man Tyler’s invited into his own flat. (This man whose death traumatized him.) When Hasan’s expression becomes a bit withdrawn, Tyler hastily says, “No, no, it’s fine. I don’t care about you being Muslim, I promise.”

Hasan relaxes slightly and gives Tyler a tired smile. “Sorry, but you never know with Cardiff. There were some horrible people who would yell at me for just walking out on the streets.”

“Yeah,” Tyler agrees. “I wish I could say things have gotten a bit better, people a bit more tolerant, but I wouldn’t know if that would be true.” He rocks back on his heels, oddly nervous. “I should let you get to sleep now. You’ve had quite a day… with the coming back to life and everything.”

“I would appreciate that,” Hasan says, and Tyler slowly backs out of the room. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Tyler doesn’t sleep that night, curled up under his blankets like a child, kept up by the Deliverables app whispering commands into his mind and the crushing sensation of being helpless and unable to think for himself. Faintly, he thinks he hears terrified whimpers and moans leaking in through the thin walls, but they might even be his own.

The next morning, Hasan’s dark circles match his.

* * *

Tyler and Hasan walk to the Plass in silence but are met by the water tower by Ng who tells Tyler, “I can show Hasan around the Hub. Hurry to the SUV. Colchester and Jack are waiting. There’s a cluster of Hoix somewhere on Hope Street.”

She passes Tyler a stun gun, and he offers an apologetic smile to Hasan before he jogs away, grateful he decided to wear jeans today. Behind him, he can hear a bewildered Hasan ask Ng, “Is this common for Torchwood? Dead men coming back to life and aliens?”

“Pretty much,” Ng replies.

When Tyler whips open the passengers’ side door to the SUV, he’s surprised to find Jack sitting in the back, Colchester in the driver’s seat, the engine idling. He slides in, and Colchester pulls the SUV onto the street.

Over the rumble of the engine, Jack asks Tyler, “How are you holding up?” He sounds quiet, concerned, in a way he rarely does. “It’s not everyday someone you knew who died comes back to life.”

“It’s just that…” Tyler trails off. He’s never really known someone who he’s lost who he’d have wished to have brought back. He’s had mistakes he’d made that he’d like to have undone, relationships he’s destroyed that he’d like to see rectified. (Damien comes to mind in particular.) Instead, he turns a curious gaze to the older man. “Is there anyone who you would have liked to have come back? Anyone, in all the years you’ve lived?”

Jack’s gaze goes distant and soft, his mouth twisted, a shadow of grief passing over his face; Tyler nearly immediately regrets asking. For the longest of moments, Jack hesitates. Eventually, he says, “Too many.” With a wry, pained smile: “ _Too many._ ”

Tyler wonders if he’s thinking of anyone in particular.

When they get back to the Hub, with three Hoix knocked out in the back of the SUV, Ng has Hasan sitting in a desk chair at a workstation and is walking him through the Mainframe and its code. Hasan looks like he’s mostly following along, likely better than Tyler did when Ng gave him the same introduction. 

“This is a wonderfully complex system,” Hasan says, with a tinge of glee, his eyes alight with interest. “Who designed it?”

“No one did,” replies Jack, briefly clapping a comforting hand on Hasan’s shoulder. Hasan stares up at him in awe, his mouth dropping slightly; Tyler bites back an amused chuckle. Jack just has that effect on people. “It’s alien, just like everything else here. But I know the woman who once helped maintain and refine Mainframe. She was a brilliant woman.” There it is, the same expression of sorrow, muddled with a bit of pride, that came over Jack’s face in the SUV.

Jack’s smile widens, becoming a bit more genuine, and he nods to Hasan before moving away. Hasan shifts his hazy eyes to Tyler who chuckles, sitting in the desk chair beside Hasan’s. “Yeah, that’s just Jack. He has that effect on everyone.” A beat. “What’s Ng told you so far?”

“Just about this organization. This is nearly… unbelievable,” Hasan admits. He rolls his chair closer to Tyler’s, and their knees knock gently together. “She also told me about what happened after I… in the last few years.” His brow is furrowed.

“There was a lot,” Tyler agrees. “A lot of horrible things, a lot of death, a lot of nights where we thought the world was going to end, but things are getting a bit better now.” 

He hopes. He does that now. He _hopes._ Somehow, Torchwood took him, a cynical man, and turned him into more of a believer. Odd that.

Sighing, he tells Hasan, “You’re going to like it here. You’ll see phenomena beyond your wildest dreams and meet aliens you could never have imagined, but it’ll be worth it, I promise.”

“Thank you,” Hasan says, his smile genuine. And Tyler’s heart flutters slightly, but he tightens his grasp on it. Last night, those weeks he’d spent trailing Hasan over the city and then in the warehouse, he’d been attracted to Hasan, had lusted after him, but there’d been a point where some of that desire had softened, had turned to hazier, warmer feelings he’d been too afraid to name.

Tyler can’t afford that again, because for all he swore only moments previous that Torchwood had turned him into a believer, that cynicism is still there, that cynicism and the fear that Tyler could take something, take someone, wonderful like Hasan and raze it to the ground.

And Hasan doesn’t deserve that. Nor does Tyler deserve Hasan.

* * *

“How was it?” Tyler asks hesitantly as they sit at the kitchen island in his flat, each man wolfing down his own plate of halal biryani from a Pakistani takeout place near the Plass. Hasan had sat on the bench outside the restaurant, not prepared to face such a crowd. “Your first full day of being alive again, I mean?” A beat. “How are you feeling?”

He watches the other man with bated breath, watches Hasan’s lips shift as he searches for the right words, for the right sentiment, but struggles. His eyes are wide, slightly bewildered. Tyler recognizes that expression, the very one he himself had made when he’d first met Jack, the wondering, the questioning, about what Torchwood was; it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what the shifting beast of Torchwood is.

“Weird,” says Hasan finally. “It has been… weird.”

This startles a wheezy laugh out of Tyler, and he breaks into a bout of hysterical chuckles, Hasan joining in nervously. His own laughter smooths out into something more genuine. For several moments, Hasan and Tyler are just laughing at the absurdity that the last two days have been. Hasan’s shoulders smooth out, and Tyler can feel part of a great weight lifting off his chest.

He wipes faint tears away from his eyes, straightening up as he calms down. Hasan’s chest is still heaving with muffled laughter, a flexing movement that Tyler finds his eyes drawn to. 

“Thank you,” Tyler tells Hasan, smiling softly. “I didn’t realize how much I needed that.” He can hear the tinge of relief to his own words, hopes Hasan doesn’t hear it as well, realizing he was afraid that the other was going to break down right here and now. Tyler doesn’t know if he would have been able to have dealt with that.

Hasan returns Tyler’s smile, and it’s such a flustered yet… _adorable_ \- and how Tyler loathes to use that word, but there’s nothing better fitting here; still, inwardly, he cringes - expression. “You’re welcome,” Hasan replies.

“You should probably get some sleep,” Tyler says, when the silence lingers too long, only filled with the scraping of their utensils against plates and Hasan occasionally tapping his fingers against the kitchen island. “You’ve had a long day.” The other man nods, rising to take his plate to the sink, but Tyler gently snatches it from him, shaking his head. “No, none of that. I’ll clean the kitchen up. Go to bed; I’ll bring you some tea.”

Tyler is deep in thought, musing on the events of the day, when the kettle whistles shrilly, and he snaps back into action, pouring the steaming water into a lone mug, splashing in some milk, and then disposing of the tea bag. He carefully carries the mug to his spare room.

“None for you?” Hasan asks curiously, sitting half-propped against the headboard. He’s already changed into his borrowed clothes. Tyler makes a reminder to take him shopping at some point.

“I don’t drink tea,” Tyler replies and watches understanding flicker through Hasan’s dark eyes.

That night, Tyler lies in his bed, _achingly_ alone again, remembering how he’d once asked Jack to hold him. As he drifts off to sleep, he realizes - for the first time - that he’s grateful Hasan is here and alive and with him.

The nightmares do come shortly after that, for both men, but Tyler is briefly comforted by the memory of warm, dark eyes and a flustered smile.

* * *

The next few days trickle by slowly until Hasan has spent a full week alive, a full week at Torchwood. In the moments where they manage to catch a breath, Tyler takes Hasan shopping and to get groceries, promising a protesting Hasan that he can pay Tyler back as soon as he gets his first paycheck. Otherwise, Hasan, not entirely comfortable with weapons or physicality, spends most of his time in the Hub becoming familiar with the Torchwood system and doing general administrative work Yvonne asks him to while the rest of the team is darting all over Cardiff and further dealing with Rift spikes and Weevils and general oddities. 

As far as Tyler observes, Hasan’s a diligent, determined worker, winning him Yvonne and Colchester’s quiet approval. Hasan warms up to Ng and Orr, both of whose work generally overlaps with his. He’s friendly enough with Andy, and he stares at Jack in bewilderment, but Tyler never catches Hasan staring after him, something that _disappoints_ him far more than he’d thought it would.

(Of course, it doesn’t help that Hasan only secretly glances after Tyler when Tyler’s back is turned. Tyler spends many hours wondering why Jack is wearing that almost insufferable knowing grin around him and Hasan.)

Hasan discovers Jack’s immortality fairly early on, when they bring a badly-wounded Jack into the Hub after a Weevil attack. He catches a glimpse of Jack gasping back to life on the autopsy table and spends most of the day muttering in Bengali after being given a quick explanation, pretty much the same one the rest of them received, but he is seemingly back to normal the next day. Tyler supposes that coming back to life to a changed Cardiff readies a man for even the most bizarre, which comes in handy when a Weevil is set loose in the Hub and Hasan is forced to stun it incredibly quickly.

Panting, his hair in a messy disarray, he tells Tyler, completely straight-faced, “I suppose growing up playing cricket did come in handy.”

Passing Hasan and Tyler, likely on a way to find a clean shirt, Jack claps Hasan on the back. “Oh, you’ll fit right in around here.”

Never, at any point, do either Tyler or Hasan bring up Deliverables or the interest they’d shown in each other; they dance around it like they dance around the fact that they both wake up screaming from nightmares more nights than others.

One day, almost two weeks later, Yvonne casually asks Hasan during lunch if he has any family he’d wish for them to contact, apologizing for having forgotten to ask earlier, but Tyler knows it was a calculated move on her part. She wants to know what other ties Hasan could have beyond Torchwood, how useful he could be for her.

Hasan shakes his head. “None, Yvonne.” His eyes hold poorly-veiled grief. “My father died before I went to university, my mother before I came to Cardiff.”

So Hasan’s all alone in the world, Tyler muses. Just like him. Just like most of the rest of Torchwood. Colchester has Colin, and Yvonne and Andy try to pretend they don’t have each other, but really, it’s just Jack, Tyler, Ng, Orr, and now Hasan has Torchwood’s miserable, lonely sods.

Least he and Hasan can be lonely and miserable together, although lately, Tyler’s been feeling less lonely and less miserable with each passing day.

* * *

Several days later, Hasan ends up getting dragged on a Weevil call upon Yvonne’s insistence. He doesn’t protest, but Tyler can tell from the way that the tension fades from Hasan’s body language when Tyler slides into the SUV that Hasan’s reassured by his presence. Jack is the one driving, and Hasan and Tyler flinch every time the SUV screeches around a corner or nearly bounces off a tree. Tyler swears that Hasan is murmuring Bengali prayers beneath his breath.

“Now this is standard work, boys,” Jack says gleefully as they make their way through the park, weeds crunching underfoot. “Stun, bag, and tag ‘em. We should be good to go. Simple as that.” He bounds ahead.

“That does not sound simple,” Hasan says to Tyler, who shrugs.

“You’ll get used to it,” he replies. “It’s certainly less stressful than what Torchwood dealt with before.”

When they finally catch up with Jack, he’s already wrestling with a Weevil, its claws inches from his throat. “I miss Janet,” he shouts when he sees them.

“I don’t know who Janet is,” Tyler says when Hasan turns to him with a questioning look. Before the Weevil can tear out a chunk of Jack, Tyler dives forward, spraying the Weevil in the face. He watches calmly as it collapses to the ground. Jack kneels down to slip cuffs onto each of his limbs, giving Tyler a grateful nod.

“Let’s keep going,” he orders. “There should be more ahead.”

Indeed, there are more ahead, several Weevils who don’t take too kindly to their brethren having been kidnapped. Abruptly, Tyler finds himself knocked to the ground by a ferocious Weevil, its sharp teeth and claws gleaming inches away from his face, and he gulps, frantically crawling backwards. He can hear Jack yelling behind him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters. “ _Fuck._ You didn’t survive so much just to die via Weevil, Tyler.”

He scrambles in the grass, searching for the stun gun that’d been knocked from his grasp by the Weevil, cursing the fact that he left his regular gun behind at the Hub. 

_That’s it then,_ Tyler thinks as the Weevil rears its head back and lunges for his throat, _I’m going to die here, in this shite Welsh park. I hope the funeral isn’t open-casket._

Then, with a sudden yell, someone stuns the Weevil, which roars monstrously, seizing and writhing, before it falls to the ground, unconscious, inches away from a nearly hyperventilating Tyler. With the Weevil gone, Tyler’s view of the sky clears, suddenly filled with the incredibly handsome and concerned face of Hasan.

Hasan kneels, reaching a hand for Tyler, his face looming nearer. “Are you alright, Tyler?”

Tyler roots a hand in Hasan’s ridiculous button-up shirt and yanks the other man forward, until his body sprawls across Tyler’s. Luckily, he’s tall enough that he doesn’t have to crane his head far to press his lips to Hasan’s in an enthusiastic kiss, wrapping an arm around Hasan’s neck, the other man moaning into his mouth.

Eyes fluttering shut, Tyler hooks a leg around one of Hasan’s, and Hasan snakes a hand underneath Tyler’s t-shirt, tracing the skin of Tyler’s stomach, and Tyler is faintly aware that he’s a grown man snogging another man on the ground, but he cannot bring himself to care. Eventually, the need to breathe outweighs the need for each other, and so Tyler reluctantly gives Hasan a gentle shove.

“Need to breathe,” he wheezes when Hasan fixes worried eyes on him, still hovering above Tyler.

“Taking down Weevils,” says an amused voice from nearby. It’s Jack, learning against a tree and smirking widely, his arms crossed over his chest. “It works every time.”

Hasan, hastily clambering to his feet, blushes, ducking his head, but Tyler slowly stretches up to stand and winks at Jack. 

Jack shakes his head, chuckling. He picks up an unconscious Weevil, tossing it over his shoulder, and heads towards the SUV. “Bring the other two,” he calls.

“That was quite some kiss,” Hasan says, and although he’s still blushing brightly, there’s something gentle and warm shining in his eyes. “You aren’t going to try to convince me to shag against a tree now, are you?” A beat. “It doesn’t have as much privacy as a changing booth.”

Tyler’s heart twinges painfully, but he manages an amused snort. “I think not. You deserve much better than that. A bed perhaps?” He hauls a snoring Weevil up into his arms but reaches for Hasan’s hand as he passes. He rubs a gentle thumb against the soft skin of Hasan’s wrist before squeezing Hasan’s hand.

_I’m glad you’re here,_ he hopes the touch says. A brief moment later, there’s a responding squeeze, and Tyler smiles to himself. Then he continues dragging the Weevil to the SUV.

* * *

Eventually, after nearly a month, they get in touch with God. As it turns out, she was down in a remote part of the Bahamas, sunning herself on the beach without any cell phone or Internet access. But as soon as she can, she sends an email proclaiming she’s on her way, and several days later, she stands in the Hub before Jack and a perfectly composed Yvonne, the rest of the team scattered behind them.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” God says appreciatively as she glances around the Hub. “You’ve really rebuilt it nicely. I was afraid that the explosion would have done too much damage.”

“Third time’s the charm,” Jack replies cheerily. “Hopefully, this Hub won’t be exploding any time soon.” There’s a bit of darkness to his eyes when he says this; Tyler wonders what the circumstances were of the first Hub explosion.

“So what exactly is the problem?” God asks. “I was very much enjoying the Bahamas. They serve you drinks with little umbrellas.”

Jack manages to avoid rolling his eyes. Tyler does not. “He’s the problem,” Tyler says, placing a hand on Hasan’s shoulder, rubbing soothingly, and God turns to face them. “A month ago, Hasan here was dead. Now, he’s not.” 

“Oh, dear,” says God, her brow furrowing. “I see. Now, that is a problem, but one that’s easily remedied. Have you no weapons around here?”

“No,” Tyler nearly shouts. He calms down, his grip around Hasan’s shoulder tightening. Hasan leans into the touch. “That’s not the problem. We simply want to know how Hasan came back to life and if you had anything to do with it.”

Yvonne cuts in, “Torchwood needs to know if it will be facing an entity on the level of the Committee. I will not have old mistakes being repeated.”

God blinks. “Oh. That’s quite a simple answer then.”

“So you did have something to do with Hasan being brought back?” Jack asks.

“Sorry, but could I perhaps bother you for a cup of tea?” God asks, her question directed to Orr, who nods. “A little biscuit as well. I’ve certainly missed those. Cardiff has the best selection of biscuits that I’ve ever had.”

Tyler sighs. Upon Yvonne’s orders, the rest of the team drifts off to under tasks, only Tyler, Hasan, Jack, and Yvonne remaining. Even Orr returns to their workstation after handing the cup of tea to God.

“Right then,” Yvonne says, gesturing for God to go on. “You were saying?”

“Well, I don’t mind jammy dodgers or custard creams,” begins God, “but I do much prefer Hobnobs and chocolate bourbon. Although, I did have the luxury of trying an Iced Vovo in Australia, and they were quite delightful.”

“About Hasan,” Tyler reminds her. “Did you bring Hasan back?”

“Simply put, yes,” replies God, “but also no.”

Yvonne’s brow creases; in Tyler’s opinion, she does not look pleased. “Which one is it then?” she asks irately.

God takes a bite out of her biscuit - from the last pack of Hobnobs left in the Hub, it seems; Colchester won’t be pleased - and finishes chewing before she responds. “Yes, I was responsible for bringing Mr. Khondakar back, albeit not directly.” She turns to Tyler, smiling kindly. “When Yvonne used the Lens to channel my powers from Orr and send them through the Rift, there was a wide surge of energy. Despite residing in Orr, my powers still contained a scrap of my willpower. They delved into each of your mind and searched out what each of you wanted so deeply than you may not have even been aware of it. It took time for these latent wishes of yours to gather enough energy from the Rift to come to fruition, which is why Mr. Khondakar popped up early two years later.”

“Oh,” Hasan says finally after he has seemingly processed God’s explanation. “So I won’t just disappear off the face of the Earth one day?”

“I do not believe so, Hasan,” God tells him softly. “You are here to stay.”

Hasan’s hand slips down to grasp Tyler’s, and Tyler squeezes gently. Hasan squeezes back.

“Thank you,” replies Hasan. “I am eternally grateful.”

They turn their attention from God to each other, but just before Tyler tunes her out: “Be aware, the other wishes will take longer. There may be more surprises to come.”

* * *

“Hasan, Tyler! What a surprise! I didn’t expect to find you here,” comes a familiar booking voice, and Tyler squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. They couldn’t have one evening without Torchwood, could they?

“He’s coming this way,” Hasan murmurs, still clutching Tyler’s hand on the table, their fingers laced together.

“It’s too late to hide, isn’t it?” Tyler asks, and Hasan chuckles, eyeing their food and drinks - wine for Tyler, a nonalcoholic cocktail for Hasan - longingly.

“I think so.”

Tyler turns to face their unwelcome visitor. “Hi, Jack,” he says. “What are you doing here?”

From the other side of the elaborate iron wrought fence that marks off the restaurant’s back patio, Jack beams. “Rift spike, right around here. Yvonne and Andy had the night off, and Colchester’s busy with Colin, so I volunteered. Ng and Orr are back at the Hub.” He waggles his eyebrows at them. “What are the two of you doing?”

Before Tyler can respond with “On a date,” Hasan gives him a warning look. _Don’t drive him away,_ his expression seems to say. _He’s clearly lonely._

“Just having dinner,” Hasan quickly replies. 

“What did the Rift deliver today?” Tyler drawls, doing his best to hide his exasperation. He’s still fond of Jack, he really is, considering that he’s… well, _Jack,_ but with the time that Tyler and Hasan get free together nowadays, with the Rift being busy the way it is, they barely manage to snog, let alone stick a hand down each other’s trousers. Tyler’s owed Hasan this first date of sorts for months now.

Jack shrugs. “I wouldn’t know.” At Tyler and Hasan’s startled glances: “I searched all around here, but I found nothing. The Rift spike seemed sizable, but I don’t think anything’s slipped through. I would have caught it.” He chuckles to himself. “I’m very good with my hands.” A beat. “And my mouth.”

“That I know,” Tyler mutters to himself, and Hasan manages to keep from laughing. They’ve talked about Tyler’s history with Jack before, and Hasan has been nothing but curious. 

The immortal leans forward, resting his arms on the fence. “You know,” he begins, tone conversational, “this entire area used to be nothing but old houses before.”

“And now it’s a trendy French restaurant,” Hasan says lightly, and by the slight furrowing of his brow, Tyler can tell that no matter how much he pities Jack or cares for the older man, he also wants for them to be left alone. “We had to sign up months in advance for a reservation. It’s certainly been worth it thus far.”

Still, Jack doesn’t take the hint; he only leans further on the fence, fingers wrapping around the iron bars. “This restaurant itself,” he says, “this used to be a pub. The most haunted pub in Wales, some called it.”

“Interesting,” Tyler says. “Well, thank you for the history lesson, Jack, but we’ll see you back at the-”

“I’m happy for you,” Jack tells him suddenly. “I’m _honestly_ very happy for you; I’m glad you’re happy and in love, the both of you.”

Hasan and Tyler exchanged slightly alarmed glances. 

“I wouldn’t go as far as to say _in love,_ ” Tyler replies, casting pleading eyes towards Hasan. “We’ve only been dating for a few months…”

“Four,” Hasan clarifies. “I think we just need some more time together.”

“Yes, but there are feelings involved,” Jack pressures, raising his eyebrows.

Neither Tyler or Hasan meet each other’s gaze this time. Several awkward moments stretch by, as slowly and heavily as saltwater taffy that shops on the Plass sell. Jack’s eyebrows rise higher, nearly disappearing into his hairline. Finally, Tyler nods and says, “Yes, I believe that you could say that.” His words are directed to the ground, but when he lifts his head, he finds that Hasan’s eyes are warm and pleased. Tyler smiles softly at his boyfriend.

_Boyfriend._ That’s something, someone, he didn’t think he could have again, not after everything that happened with Damien, everything that caused him to move to Cardiff. Briefly, there were feelings there that he had growing for Jack, but he knows Jack, knows him much better. He knows that Jack would not let that happen, is determined to continue going through his life without attachments. Tyler’d been the same way before Hasan came back, but surely, no one can keep living life that way, that lonely, that miserable, especially not an immortal. 

But then, Tyler supposes, what is life if everyone you love is always going to leave you? Tyler is lucky enough to be mortal, even if mortality behaves oddly around him, bringing back Colchester and Hasan and Jack on a daily basis.

“See, this is exactly what I meant,” Jack says warmly, smiling at both Tyler and Hasan. “The two of you have something good going for yourselves. I’m happy for you.” More directly, to Tyler: “It’s what you deserve, someone to love you.”

_It’s what you deserve as well,_ Tyler does not say, even if he thoroughly believes that it’s true. He can see the sadness gleaming in Jack’s gorgeous ocean eyes, the same sadness that’s been ever present since the day Tyler first met him.

As if sensing Tyler’s train of thoughts, Hasan suggests, “Why don’t you come inside, Jack? We can get you a seat at our table. Join us.”

Jack waves the offer away. “Nah.” His grin is slightly subdued now. “You and Tyler should enjoy your date; I’m sorry for interrupting. It’s not everyday that you manage to slip free of Torchwood for this long. Trust me, I’ve worked for them long enough to know.”

He nearly turns to leave, but now, Tyler and Hasan are reluctant to let him.

“Wait,” Tyler says, and Jack stills. “Orr was looking for you today, when you and Ng were often on the Weevil hunt again. They wanted to ask you a question about some sort of alien energy weapon.”

“Oh, yeah,” replies Jack. “The Elder’aan. They’ve been asking me to train them with it. I think Andy introduced them to some really bad sci-fi movies.” He wrinkles his nose, clearly judgemental of Andy’s taste in movies.

“There was a theater near where I grew up in Bangladesh that played solely science fiction movies,” Hasan says fondly. “My friends and I used to cut class in high school and sneak in to watch them. That’s why I decided to become an engineer.”

“Oh, so you were rebellious as a youth,” Jack drawls, eyeing Hasan interestedly. Hasan blushes. Tyler rolls his eyes. “You must be especially handy now, as an engineer, I mean.” And Hasan’s blush brightens as Jack’s smirk grows particularly lascivious. 

“Quit flirting with them, Jack,” comes an unfamiliar, dry, Welsh-accented voice from behind Jack, and the change across Jack’s expression is startling. Jack’s eyes widen, a shadow of pain passing over them, and his lips fall slack, twitching minutely. He whirls around, the newcomer stepping forward.

He’s hot, Tyler observes, and looks roughly the same age as Tyler, with a cute button nose and incredible cheekbones and crystalline blue eyes. He’s wearing an expensive pinstriped suit clings well to his lithe frame and a smirk to rival Jack’s.

Jack himself looks like he’s seen a ghost, his face wan. It’s nearly as if he’s briefly stopped breathing. “Ianto,” he whispers. “No. It can’t be… You’re…” 

“Dead?” Ianto asks, and his smirk softens to a smile. “When has death stopped you, Jack Harkness?”

A dazzling grin stretches across Jack’s face, a bright expression that Tyler has never seen before. Both he and Hasan are watching the exchange between Jack and this strange Welshman with bewilderment.

“Oh, I love you, Ianto Jones,” Jack declares and roots a hand in Ianto’s hair to kiss him passionately, holding onto the younger man with a tight grip, almost as if he’ll turn to wisp and slip through Jack’s fingers. Again.

Solemnly, Hasan turns to Tyler. “Looks like I’m not the only dead man walking,” he says and reaches for Tyler’s hand again. And Tyler lets him.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [here](http://princess-of-the-worlds.tumblr.com/) or on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/rajkumarinik). I tweet and reblog mostly Torchwood with occasionally amusing commentary on nonsense. Please come talk to me and tell me if/how much you like my fic or like ask me about it on tumblr; all my schoolwork has become remote now, and I have limited social interaction.


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